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Benny lunged and tackled Mike. He slapped the remote
from Mike's hand and took Mike by the throat. Jamison leaped on Benny and
rammed his fists on Benny's arms.
Benny knocked him away. Jamison sprawled, felt his
back twist and cried out with the ugly fire in his spine.
“Don't do it, boy. It don't never do no good.”
“Old man,” Benny snarled from between clenched
teeth, “You know what they want me for?” The shaggy hair almost covered
the face, but Jamison could see the red gleaming eye.
“I . . . do. They thinks that because I'm old and
half deaf I'm stupid, too. But I hear them talk. I know, son.” He pulled
himself from the ground. The remote lay at his feet. He stooped and picked it
up, his face a mask of raw suffering. “I work for Miz McAllen- Ms VanTur. So
does he. She won't let him waste me. And me, I don't squeal on family.” He
stared long and hard at Benny. “I was kin to Miz Long, boy, so I guess that
makes me kin to your grandpapa.” He watched Mike’s face turn dark. The
tongue flopped out. Drool slid over Benny’s knotted fists. “Let Donnelly
go, son. Now.”
Benny laughed at the remote. “You better use that
quick, Old-Man, because I'm going to break his neck.”
With all his might Jamison threw the remote into the
trees.
“No you won't, son. You're too good a man to kill
a helpless man.” He offered Benny a crooked grin. “If you weren't, you'd
of done me quick like.” He smiled and lay his hands on Benny forearms where
muscle and tendon and veins bulged with years of hard work and tension. “I
pray our Lord will set you free, A:Waya:gi. Dohi:yi, Wya kin. EmenV and
dohi:yi.”
With great reluctance Benny released Mike's throat
and let the man slide to the ground.
Benny looked at Mike and felt the old man's arm
around his shoulders in a paternal hug. He smiled at Mike, his mouth barely
changed from the grim lines set there by the Project. “You tell your
brother, Boone, about this. Dude thinks he can take me. He found out the hard
way he was wrong.”
Mike gasped for air. He lay back and massaged his
neck. Disbelief stark on his blanched face, he managed to croak a laugh.
“You took Bull? No way. Never.”
“That jolly white giant went down like a lead
balloon.”
The steady beat of a helicopter rumbled up from the
valley.
Benny looked up, face tight.
Jamison pulled away from him and gave him a push up
the trail.
“Die free,” was all he said.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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